The Mortician
by Olazay
Summary: A serial killer is on the loose...My first fanfiction, post-Watershed. Please review! I would have put in Ryan and Esposito as characters, but it only lets you do four and it didn't seem fair to list one and not the other :)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: So this is my first fanfic, and I know that the chapters are pretty short but that's just kind of how I write. I can make them longer or add more fluff as desired though :) Please enjoy, and ratings and comments are muuuuuch appreciated. Without further ado, please enjoy.**

Richard Castle watched his muse as she sat at on her desk, focused on the murder board. This was a weird one, with a particular Beckett flavor to it. Bodies being found strapped to autopsy tables, with the V of stitches and sheet over them, but with their necks slit. He preferred attractive, straight-haired redheads that reminded him a little too much of his own daughter. But these woman were in their late twenties to early thirties, and had a career in law enforcement, which reminded him a little too much of Detective Kate Beckett. There were 5 bodies so far, each discovered in the yards of cemeteries all over the New York area. 5 faces were taped to the murder board; Inspecter Rosenfeld, Sergeant Eva Goodwin, Officer Meredith Stevens , Captain Leigh Bradley, and Assistant Cheif Sheila McKinley.

"What are you thinking?" Castle asked her.

She turned her face to him and, like always, he was momentarily stricken by her beauty. "I'm thinking that he's getting restless. These types of killers who go to such extremes to prepare the bodies for...revelation, they put on a show. It doesn't seem to be any of the people the girls knew personally, and there hasn't been any other cases like this. He wants our attention. He's going to do something big. Soon." She tucked a long curl of caramel brown behind her ear, leaning forward.

"Like what? Change his M.O.? He doesn't seem like the type. "

Beckett bit her lip. "You're right. It's something else." She smiled wryly. "Their calling him The Mortician. Maybe he'll do something to add more weight to that title."

She was so fiercely intelligent. Extraordinary. It added to the allure of her, knowing that despite her beyond model gorgeousness and striking beauty, she had depth and layers. The Beckett Onion. When she was speaking to the families, her empathy and connection with them made him imagine who she was before her mother was killed along with a little part of herself. She was the best and youngest detective the NYPD had ever seen. Highest solve right, impressive credentials, and strongest and bravest person he had ever met himself. She was probably beating herself up over the fact that it had been two days and they didn't have a lead suspect.

"Castle?"

He returned to the present. He saw her hanging up the phone. "That Lanie?"

"Yeah, she hasn't arrived at the morgue yet so she said she'll meet us there to show us the...newest body," Beckett told him, pulling on her jacket. He hopped up and followed her to the elevator.

"It's almost noon. She hasn't been to the morgue yet?"

"I guess not. It's creepy how this guy presents his victims...I'm a little surprised that he doesn't clean them up a little more to add to the effect." Beckett frowned.

"He doesn't need more effect; he has the irony of killing girls by autopsy techniques. That's plenty creepy to me," Castle scoffed.

"How does he choose his victims? Why redheads?" she wondered, shaking her head.

"Youngish women with red hair and a law enforcement career. Maybe he knew or was close to someone who had red hair, died young-"

"And the police never caught the murderer. This is his vengeance for her. Maybe it wasn't even red hair- something to do with the color red. Blood. Maybe her name was Scarlett or Rose or...Ruby or something. Serial killers are usually in their thirties, or at the very least between their 20's and 40's. Maybe she was little sister."

"He had basically raised her or she was all he had or she saved him from oblivion or something," Castle added. "We should cross-reference men in the New York area in their thirties with a history of suspected or proven mental illness or criminal activity and with a younger sister who was murdered and had an unsolved case." She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, yeah, it's a longshot, but we should give it a shot."

"Maybe we'll get lucky," Beckett smiled at him.

KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKB RCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC

"So, she's in her late-thirties. Oldest vic so far. She also isn't a redhead," Lanie said as they walked to the morgue.

"She's not a redhead?" Beckett repeated, confused.

"Well, not from birth like the others. She got lymphoma in her teens, and when her hair grew back after chemotherapy it was orange instead of blonde. Unless the killer knew that, that could narrow down your suspect pool," Lanie explained. "It's probably nothing, though."

"Well, it's something. We haven't gotten a solid lead on this thing yet." Beckett's jade green eyes were luminous. "I'll check if all her childhood friends and aquaintences have solid alibi's."

"I don't think it's likely that the killer knows each victim. It's probably just him choosing people that fit his category. I doubt that he researches each girl before he goes in for the kill," Castle said skeptically.

Lanie winked. "Look at you, writer boy, being all logical."

Beckett rolled her eyes. "It can't hurt. Anyway, can I see a picture of the victim again?"

"Sure." Lanie fished a photo out of her bag.

Castle and Beckett studied the photo. Sheila McKinley looked back at them, smiling for her DMV photo. Her straight, short titanian hair was combed neatly and tucked behind one ear. Her chestnut brown eyes twinkled as she smiled, a full face smile that encompassed not just her mouth but her nose and her eyes and her cheeks and her ears. Her eyes were free of dark circles as well, which surprised Beckett. She was clearly full of energy and life and happiness, which was rare for someone so far along in the law enforcement career.

"She looks so...carefree," Beckett murmured.

Castle wrinkled his nose. "Do you guys smell that?"

"I don't smell anything, Castle," Lanie snorted.

Beckett pauses. "I do. You're used to the smell of corpses..." She crossed to the supply closet and opened the unlocked door. Castle shrieked and she startled as a body collapsed onto the hallway linoleum floor.

"That's my body!" Lanie exclaimed, running over. She rolled over the corpse. Sheila was wrapped sloppily in the sheet that used to cover her, some slightly coagulated blood staining the floor.

"The blood- she's been her for a couple of hours," Beckett murmured.

Castle looked at her. "Somebody moved her."

They sprinted into the morgue, and a new body was draped over the autopsy table. Silky, shining wavy light golden brown hair fell to to the point between her shoulders and elbows, her tan skin and slim, tall frame covered by a striped white and pale blue button down, leather jacket, bootcut jeans, and black stilettos, one large green eye wide open, the other's long black eyelashes brushing the high cheekbones of her oval face. Her narrow waist and long legs and rosy cheeks and full red lips also reminded him distinctly of the beautiful woman standing beside him.

She looked just like Beckett.

KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKB RCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC

"Looks like he found a good way to get our attention," Ryan said meekly, glancing at Beckett.

"It can't be a coincidence; he delivers a body that breaks his M.O. and that looks like the lead detective of this case to the morgue of the M.E. of this case," Castle insisted. "She was even wearing the outfit you're wearing."

"He's been watching you," Esposito hissed angrily. "For who knows how long. Since you got dressed this morning."

Castle felt his stomach clench and his fists clench. White-hot fury filled his vision. He watched her get dressed, he was in her apartment. Usually Beckett spent the night at his place. She practically lived there. That night she had gone home. He was watching her.

"You need a protective security detail," Castle began.

"Castle, I do not need a protective detail," Beckett scowled. "I can take care of myself. Besides, he isn't even necessarily targeting me-"

"He's watching you, he killed someone who looked like you and dressed her in your outfit!" Castle cried.

"He broke his M.O, he could come after you," Espo insisted. "You already fit most of his old M.O."

"Well, I don't need a detail. I'm a cop, Espo, I can defend MYSELF," Beckett protested.

"The others were cops, too," Ryan argued fiercely. "He still got them."

"Detective Beckett, I'm assigning you a protective detail whether you like it or not. Detective Ryan is right, don't underestimate this guy," Gates told her firmly.

Beckett ran a hand through her hair. "Fine. Okay. Can we get back to work now?"

Gates pursed her lips and walked back to her office. The others exchanged looks for a moment until Esposito cleared his throat and pinned the new victim's photo to the whiteboard.

"Detective Kimberly Brooks. 34 years old. She was reported missing on...Tuesday," he recited. "None of the others were reported missing."

"Her initials are KB?" Ryan muttered. Beckett ignored him.

"Lanie said that the victim showed signs of torture before she died. He kept her alive. Why?" Beckett thought aloud.

"Maybe he knew her," Castle suggested. "Old enemies."

"Espo, check any reports filed against her or prominent disputes with other people," Beckett instructed.

"On it," he said, jogging away.

Just then, a pair of adults scuttled through the threshold of the precinct, and Beckett briskly walked over. Ryan and Castle retreated to the hall. He saw her channel empathy and understanding to the elderly couple from her wide, soft green eyes. Those beautiful eyes framed by long, thick ink black eyelashes. The perfectly shaped eyebrows. The small, straight, slim, slightly upturned nose. The full, symmetrical pair of naturally ruby lips. Her strong jaw finishing her flawless oval face. Her lightly tanned, smooth, clear skin equal in tone from her face to the rest of her athletic, toned, immaculate body-

Focus. She was telling a couple that their daughter was dead. He had to sensitive. Sensitive, and kind, and brave, and strong, and selfless, and giving, like her...

Damnit. Castle ran a hand through his chocolate brown hair. Ever since they had gotten engaged, it became even more difficult to resist the urge to grab her in the middle of the room and start making out with her like there was no tomorrow. That simple, white gold ring with the three diamonds...it made all the difference in the world to him than just being "together". They had agreed that they weren't getting married yet; not until she was ready. It was...a promise. That she would be with him forever. And that was enough for him to have incentive to wait for her. Always.

Hot rage ran through his veins when he thought of this psycho...watching her. If he did anything to harm her in any way, Castle would kill him as soon as they identified the culprit. And he might just kill him even if he didn't harm her. And then Beckett would kill him. She stood for justice and truth, and he stood for revenge and the it's-over sureness of death.

Of course he wouldn't really kill him. But he had full permission to devise multiple scenarios in his mind where this jackhole ended up dead.

**So, I HOPE you guys liked that! Let me know if more is wanted. I have 3/4 of the next chapter in storage, so I can update probably right away if you guys want me to.**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Katherine Houghton Beckett stared at the cold body laying in front of her. Kimberly Hope Brooks. The Mortician must've done quite a bit of work to track down someone so similar to her. It was a remarkable coincidence anyone so similar to her even existed in New York City, or anywhere, really. He had abducted her from somewhere, and if by analyzing the trace minerals on her body they could discover where, maybe there would be security footage. Or maybe they could check if he used credit cards to purchase the clothes this woman wore.

But she knew in her heart he was too smart for that. Cash and a desolate area she had happened to cross into. Why had he abducted her? Torture her? Likely he did it just to make her squirm. Lanie said that the torture was that the V of stitches found also on the previous victims was different. It had been cut when Kimberly was still alive. Cause of death was the massive blood loss. It would've just spilled out like a blood-filled balloon.

Ugh. Gross analogy, Beckett thought.

Why was she here? It almost 10 PM. Lanie was gone, and Castle went to dinner with Alexis. She was supposed to be joining them, but she had told him she wasn't feeling well. Why had she told him that? She felt perfectly fine. Right? Right. She was fine.

It WAS eery how the woman had been dressed literally the exact same outfit as her, from her diamond stud earrings. Only her father's watch, engagement ring, and her mother's ring on the chain was different. She smiled. For Christmas, Castle had gotten her a lightweight, ultrastrong silver-plated titanium chain for her mother's necklace. He said he had it custom made, so it pleased her to know that the killer couldn't have replicated all of her features so matter how much he wanted to.

Her iPhone chimed. She glanced at it indifferently, opened the text message, and gasped, stumbling backwards into a tray of dissection tools. There no message, it was just a photo. A photo of her, wearing a royal blue tanktop and matching sweatpants, laying in the crumpled sheets of Castle's bed. Castle lay beside her, in a grey T-shirt and plaid pajama pants. Her head was resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around her, his lips pressed to the top of her low ponytail, her arms draped over his waist. Their eyes were closed, and by the lighting of the room she guessed it was very early in the morning.

She ran to the precinct and rammed into Espo and Ryan. Breathless, Beckett pulled back and looked at them, pushing her hair out of her sparkling green eyes. Espo looked at her oddly.

"You okay, Beckett?"

She shoved her phone into her hands. "I just got this message. It's-it's from a blocked number. Can you trace it?"

"He took pictures of you and Castle?" Ryan gaped. "Do you know when this is from?"

Beckett bit her lip and nodded her head, looking at the ground. "Uh, I think so. The day before yesterday?"

Suddenly, more messages flooded in. Beep after beep, photos of her walking and getting Chinese takeout and getting drinks with Lanie and making coffee at home and ice skating with Alexis and hanging out with Ryan and Espo and kissing Castle and drawing a bath and-

Esposito's fist clenched tightly and his jaw tightened. Beckett knew that as her honorary big brother, he was resisting the urge to crush the phone with his bare hands. Ryan, her honorary younger brother, was looking stoically at the screen and was holding his breath. They were both very protective of her, and something like this almost pushed them over the edged. She'd been under surviellence before by Bracken, but it hadn't been so personal. They hadn't been inside her home.

Castle told her that Jerry Tyson had been watching him. Castle said Jerry Tyson saw them making love. The last time someone had looked at her so personally, she'd almost died. Her apartment blown up the first time by a Nikki Heat crazed fan/serial killer, and her being held gunpoint on a bridge the second time by Jerry Tyson himself. And when she was watched by Bracken, they'd shot her in the heart and she had flatlined on the way to the hospital. Now she was being watched again. They didn't like it.

"Beckett, he's stalking you," Espo growled. "We have to call Castle."

"No, he'll freak out his daughter," Beckett countered.

"Calling."

Ryan dialed Castle's number and put it on speaker. It rang 4 times (Beckett prayed he wouldn't answer), and then his voice lit up the small space they crowded into.

"Hey, Ryan. Catch a break on the case?"

"Sort of," Ryan replied slowly.

"Is something wrong?"

"He's been stalking her, bro. For at least a week now," Esposito spoke up angrily. "He sent us...pictures. A lot of pictures."

She could hear the absolute rage balanced with crushing concern and worry color his voice as he bellowed through the speaker. "What?! I'm coming over now, don't move, just hang on-"

"Castle, please don't. Don't upset Alexis or Martha, it's fine. We're fine. I'm fine. Okay?"

"No, not okay," Castle growled. "That son of a bitch is stalking you. I'm not leaving you alone."

"Dad? What happened?" Beckett heard Alexis say.

"Nothing, pumpkin, just...Go back home, okay? I have to go to the precinct."

Beckett knew that Alexis resented her for a while after she was shot because of the danger she had put everyone else in. But when they'd had a heart-to-heart conversation and Alexis finally acknowledged that it wasn't her fault and she never wanted to get her father hurt, they had grown closer. They spent lunch hours together and went out for Girls' Nights with Lanie and Martha and talked when she couldn't sleep and gone shopping together, and they had grown to be as close to each other as Alexis was to Martha. Which meant a lot to her. She knew that Alexis would be very worried at any mention of the precinct and the other fury-fueled words that had flown out of his mouth.

"No! Dad, don't lie to me, what's going on?"

"Honey, not now, okay? Please just go home."

"Oh, my GOD! Just tell me what's going on."

"A serial killer is stalking Detective Beckett. Okay? Are you happy? Now go home."

She heard arguing, and reached over to hang up the phone. "Okay, guys, it's getting really late. Brief Castle. I gotta go get some sleep."

"Beckett?" Espo gasped, feigning shock. "Voluntarily going home to sleep?"

"Who are you and what have you done with Detective Beckett?" Ryan joked.

Beckett gave them a look, but smiled. "Don't question it. I am actually really tired. See you guys tomorrow." She headed towards the elevator.

"Kate," Ryan called. She turned around.

"Just be careful, okay?" Javi said quietly.

She nodded. "Don't worry about me."

KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKB RCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC

He sprinted into the middle of the 12th Precinct to see Ryan and Esposito standing there, waiting for him. He looked around for her, but she was no where to be seen.

"Where's Beckett?"

"She headed home. Said she was tired."

"You let her go by herself?!" Castle demanded incredulously.

"Bro, she has a security detail following her. Chill," Esposito told him.

Castle let out a slow breath. "I'm just...a little on edge." He paused. "So, how'd you figure out he's stalking her?"

"He's been taking photos of her, and he sent them to us," Ryan told him. "I downloaded them." He turned the computer screen to Castle. "I tried to trace it, but no luck. He used a burner phone to send the messages."

"God," Castle hissed, looking at the monitor.

"I crossed referenced the traits you two profiled, and I did find a guy- one...Mike Duncan. Thirty-six years old, record of assault, trespassing, and attempted murder. He was in a mental hospital for a few years as a kid. Parents abandoned him and his sister Garnett when he was 9 and she was 7. Apparently, they floated from different abusive foster homes until he turned 18 and became her guardian," Ryan recited. "He landed himself in a mental hospital after attacking people on the street who 'looked funny at his sister' and reporting that the voices told him to protect her. 7 years ago, Garnett was raped and murdered at the age of 27. The case went unsolved, and Mike almost strangled to the death the lead officer on the case...one Agent Annabelle Eden. Mike went back to the mental hospital, and he took community college classes from teachers that came to the hospital. He got a degree in technology, and he got out of the mental hospital a couple of months ago." Ryan passed a photo of Mike Duncan across the table.

He could pass for an average Joe, with his sturdy but lean build, tall frame, square jaw, short dark brown hair, and casual clothing attire. What set him apart was his squinting grey eyes with an unmistakable craze in them. Some glint he couldn't quite match to an emotion or characteristic to. Garnett Duncan sat next to him in the photo. She was a beautiful girl, with wisps of flames for hair in a color that matched her name, innocent grey-blue eyes and a bright smile that lit up her pale, heart-shaped face. According to the photo, Garnett had been 24 when the photo was taken, but she looked more like 21 and could easily have passed for 17 with a different set of clothes and some pink lip gloss.

"Wow, my profiling skills rival Jordan Shaw's!" Castle grinned proudly.

"Keep telling yourself that, bro."

"I'll text Beckett the info," Ryan narrated while snapping photos and attaching links and typing out a message and sending it to her.

"In the morning, you and Beckett should go interview Detective Eden and we'll see if we can track down Duncan," Esposito yawned. "It's almost midnight. We should close up shop for the night."

"Yeah, night."

"Night, guys," Castle called as he walked to the elevator while they packed up their supplies. While he stood in the elevator, he thought of Beckett. They had to catch this guy before he could strike again. Just in case his next strike was her.

KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKB RCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC

Beckett looked in her mirror as she reapplied her makeup, bored and unable to sleep. She drew on her eyeliner, applied mascara and concealer and foundation and blush and highlighter and bronzer and lip liner and eyeshadow and lipstick and lipgloss and if Castle were here he would tell her she's beautiful and doesn't need any of that stuff.

She sighed as she brushed out her hair again, despite how silky and soft it already was. It was nearly 2 A.M., and she'd told Castle she was gonna stay at her place to go over the case before she went to bed, but really she just wanted to be alone. Knowing now about her stalker, she suddenly really wanted privacy. She's searched the apartment for bugs and recording devices, but found nothing. Either he was really good, or he had come in here himself and taken photos.

Mike Duncan. She'd gone over the text Ryan had sent her until she had it memorized, and was profiling him further in her head. But she did need sleep, and her brain was getting exhausted to the point where she could no longer form cognitive thoughts. Beckett padded to her room, still wearing her clothes, and didn't even bother to take off her shoes before collapsing into bed. As she drifted into sleep, she couldn't help but listen carefully to the sounds of the night and the house. It was quiet. Strange for such a big city, but she wasn't complaining.

She drummed her fingers on the firm mattress, and glanced at her watch. 3:00 in the morning, it was the dead of night. She really wasn't going to get much sleep, would she? Beckett squeezed her eyes shut and kept them that way until finally she dropped into sleep.

When the morning light flecked through her eyelids, she glanced at the watch again. 5 A.M. That was enough sleep. She jumped off the bed and finger-combed her hair on her trot to the kitchen, fishing an apple out of the fridge and heading back to her room. She swapped out her undergarments for a matching white lacy bra and panties, put on her navy, quarter-sleeve Henley shirt and black fleece, tugged on her favorite pair of jeans, the dark wash skinny ones that fit her like a second skin, and finished it with dark grey pumps.

This is what she did to entertain herself at 5 in the morning. Plan what to wear.

She was still worried about being watched by whom she suspected was Mike Duncan. Last night, she had googled this Garnett Duncan and looked at her obituary. She had no social media accounts, not that there were very many when she was alive, and she didn't appear to be active in the community. But on the reports, Garnett was a very helpful and kind person to the few people she actually spoke to, which made Beckett wonder if her overprotective brother was the one who refused to let her talk to anybody.

Beckett sighed and ran a hand through her hair as she walked into the precinct. Castle handed her a coffee."Did he send you any more messages?"

Beckett ran her fingers over the grooves on her phone's bumpy white case. "No, nothing. I checked the apartment for bugs and camera, but nothing."

"He probably just breaks in himself," Castle grumbled. He shook his head and offered a weak smile. "You ready to go talk to Detective Eden?"

"You bet."

"Detective Beckett?" a sharp, hard voice asked.

She turned around to see a woman looking at her. Her glossy black hair was pin-straight, shoulder-length, and tucked into a tight, neat bun. Her non-nonsense, strong profile revealed none of her inner emotions. Neither did her simple blazer, pinstriped slacks, and short ankle boots. She was holding up a golden FBI badge.

"Yes!" Beckett replied, sticking her phone back in her pocket and reaching out to shake her hand."You must be Agent Eden."

"Just Annabelle, thank you," she said, shaking Beckett's hand firmly with a small smile. Despite her petite stature, she radiated confidence and sureness. Beckett and Castle were both surprised; she didn't really fit the name Annabelle to them, or to be the type of professional to go buy her first name.

"Okay, Annabelle, well, this is Richard Castle, our consultant. We just wanted to ask you a few questions about the Garnett Duncan case you worked seven years ago," Beckett responded.

Annabelle's round brown eyes dimmed, the pink faded slightly from her coffee complexion. "Has it been...reopened?"

"No, but we suspect her brother is responsible for a number of serial killings."

"Her brother, Mike? Yeah, it wouldn't surprise me, that guy has no problem with killing people," Annabelle scowled.

"What makes you say that?"

She narrowed her eyes at Castle. "Well, he tried to kill me, for one. Not to mention he was flat out insane."

"There's that, too..." he trailed off.

"You're a profiler for the FBI, aren't you?" Beckett inquired after a moment of awkward silence.

Annabelle smiled wryly. "Not officially, but yes. I suppose you could call me a profiler. It's how I solve most of my cases. Why?"

"Where do you think we could find him?"

"You think he's the Mortician? I saw it on the news. There's a sure possibility it's him-"

"We're almost positive it's him," Castle interrupted.

"-and if it IS, then I would assume he's somewhere he feels protected. He's clearly unstable and paranoid, and there's likely only one place he feels completely safe and in control. Somewhere with foot traffic to select his next victims," Annabelle explained.

"Where did you find him after his sister was killed?" Beckett asked.

"He and Garnett had been living in this...tree. In a relatively quiet stretch of Central Park. He had hollowed out this short, squat tree and packed down the dirt to be a sturdy flooring. He had some military cots in their and crates that he stored some supplies in," Annabelle informed her. "But the FBI made him clear out. You can't squat on government owned property, but he was homeless so we sent to him to Providence House. After he attacked me, and was sentenced to Bellevue Mental Hospital, FBI stopped tracking him. I don't know what happened to that shelter of his, but something tells me he's too smart to go back to the same place we found him before."

"Or he's smart enough to know that we won't think he'll return back there so he does return back there to trick us," Castle piped up.

Beckett glared at him. "Castle, we don't have time for this. He won't go back there."

"See, this is why he would go back there, because he know's you won't bother to-"

"We'll send a unit there," Annabelle cut in sharply. "But I doubt we'll find anything. If I were you, I would be looking at abandoned medical facilities where he had access to a location and materials to prepare those bodies for people to find." Beckett nodded. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get going. But, if there's a break in the case or you need to talk with me again..." She handed them a stiff paper business card. "Just give me a call." Annabelle gave them each a nod. "Detective Beckett, Mr. Castle."

"Annabelle. We'll be sure to contact you," Beckett smiled.

As Annabelle left, Beckett turned to the whiteboard and scribbled down the new information. "She's right. Abandoned medical facilities or morgues with foot traffic."

Ryan came running in. "We found a place he might be." He pinned a photo to the murder board. "Citizen Memorial Morgue. The bottom floor converted to a coffee shop,'Coffee To Die For', nicknamed CD's. Apparently it's a gimmick to have a coffee shop under an abandoned morgue. Anyway, the upper floor is abandoned. It would be a perfect place to gain access to autopsy equipment as well as a good place to spy on customers. Free wifi, too, so he probably has a laptop he uses to do background checks on all the redheads there. "

"How would he know their names?" Castle frowned.

"Apparently, CD's had an issue with multiple people with the same name coming to get their coffee. They use people's full names there. It's across the street from a police station, as well, so a lot of the cops go there for coffee."

"Let's get this asshole," Beckett growled.


	3. Chapter 3

Richard Castle followed Beckett carefully as the police kicked down the door and stormed the abandoned morgue. His senses were on high alert, and as they ran from room to room, he noticed a distinct lack of medical equipment. There were, however, half-smoked joints littering the tile floor along with empty syringes and empty cocaine packages.. When they cleared the last room, Castle watched Beckett slump against the wall.

"Damnit, I thought he would be here for sure," Beckett groaned, slapping her palm against her forehead. She turned to Ryan. "Have units canvass the building, look for fingerprints, DNA, anything."

"You got it."

A woman approached her. "It's okay, Detective Beckett. Everyone messes up sometimes."

Beckett stared at the woman in front of her. Officer Avery Williams had transferred from the 9th Precinct last month along with a few other officers, and the youth was as chipper as she was annoying. Not only did she have a huge crush on Castle, but she went out of her own way to poke her nose into any investigation he was involved with and try and convince him to get together with her.

"Thanks. Avery."

"Rick, your 'Writer' vest is soooo fun! Where did you even get it?" Avery squealed, flipping her blonde ponytail.

"Um. I had it custom-made," Castle replied hesitantly, looking at Beckett.

"Oh, neat! I actually had these boots custom made! I am absolutely in LOVE with magenta, but they didn't have the ankle boots in that size, so my fashion designer friend Elle took my pair and sewed magenta fabric OVER it. Isn't that clever?"

"Magenta. That's the pinkish purple thing, right?"

Avery threw her head back and laughed shrilly. "Oh, STOP it, Rick! Sometimes you are just too cute!"

Esposito cleared his throat and stepped in front of her. "Sorry to interrupt, but we should get going."

"Thank you," Castle mouthed when Avery turned around.

He joined Beckett as they walked back to the car. "I know you hate her, don't be mad. I was just trying to be polite."

She rolled her jade orbs. "Castle, I don't hate her. She's a perfectly friendly girl."

"A little too friendly, if you ask me. Did you see that? She was all over me!" Castle hissed.

"I'm surprised to see you COMPLAINING about another girl throwing herself at you," Beckett remarked coyly.

He sighed. "It's the consequences of being a ruggedly handsome, world famous mystery writer. Just something I have to live with."

"I'm sure you'll survive," Beckett snorted.

He climbed into the passenger's side of the car. "Ouch. Someone's feeling a little cynical. Sure that Officer Williams practically swooning at my feet didn't bother you even a teensy bit?"

Beckett rolled her eyes again. "You wish, writer boy. I'm not bothered by some ditzy rookie. Sure, she was flirting up a storm, it made it all the more satisfying to see you reject her."

Castle's eyes widened, and he turned his head to look at her. "Why, Detective Beckett, is that some...some jealously I detect?"

"Nope, just good ol' cynical me."

"You are SO jealous!" Castle exclaimed in delight.

Beckett raised an eyebrow. "Okay, even if I WAS jealous-" she cut him off as he opened his mouth to speak-"Which I am NOT...why does that excite you so much?"

"You are ADORABLE when your jealous," he smiled affectionately.

"Adorable, huh?" Beckett smiled. "Guess you've never really seen me jealous."

"Did Miss I'm-Too-Good-To-Be-Jealous just admit to a moment of jealousy in her past?" he gasped.

"Oh, come on, don't act so surprised. I was a teenage girl once. I had a couple jealous moments," Beckett responded with a serene smile.

A grin lit up his face. "Care to share some of your rage-filled past?"

"Maybe if you're good, I'll tell you about the time Maddie and I fought over Kyle Stevens..."

KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKB RCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC

"I can't believe we didn't find him there. It's practically begging for some serial killer to inhabit it," Ryan sighed.

Castle nodded. "Especially serial killers who enjoy dressing their victims like freshly autopsied bodies."

"Well, he wasn't there," Beckett cut in seriously. "And that means he's somewhere else and we need to find him before he kills again."

"Party pooper," Castle muttered.

She ignored him and sat back, looking harshly at the white board. "It's like he's just one step ahead of us."

"Well, he is stalking you," Esposito pointed out. "He could be tracking our progress."

Beckett turned around. "You're right. But how has be been photographing me and we still haven't found any evidence of cameras, or...bugs, something like that."

"He has an assistant!" Castle exclaimed, sitting up.

"An assistant?" Esposito repeated skeptically. "Duncan doesn't seem like the type to want an assistant."

"Not an assistant exactly, a...a spy. Someone who's been stalking you FOR him. Who's telling him our next move," Castle suggested.

"That's a lot to infer from one mistake on our part, Castle," Beckett said, shaking her head.

"Somebody is helping him. When we ran the most prominent fingerprints, there weren't any matches. If they belonged to some junkie, it probably would've been in the system already. They aren't his."

"Somebody who's not in the system. That's anybody without a criminal record, Castle. Not much help to us," Ryan reminded him.

"Or anybody in law enforcement!" Beckett cried. They turned to her. "Law enforcers get their names automatically cleared from the system so that when they scan prints, they don't get the ones of the detectives at the crime scene confused with the suspect's."

"A cop at the 12th's been informing Duncan," Espo confirmed in awe.

"Come on, guys, we don't know that. We can't go around accusing cops of being crooked," Ryan protested.

"I know, it's just..." Beckett trailed off.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Castle and Beckett announced in unity.

Espo raised his eyebrows. "You guys sure you don't practice that?"

Beckett glared at them and sat down, drumming her fingers on the table. "Shut up."

Ryan's clear blue eyes suddenly widened and he started coughing. "Beckett, is...is that a RING on your finger?!"

Castle's breath caught in his chest and he slowly turned his head to him. Beckett froze. "What?"

"I believe that Detective Ryan just asked you if that was, in fact, and ENGAGEMENT RING on your left ring finger?" Esposito interrogated.

"Actually, Ryan wasn't that specific, he just asked if it was a ring, and clearly the answer is yes, it is a ring, so we're done with that," Castle babbled frantically.

Esposito narrowed his eyes. "Okay, I am asking now. Is that an engagement ring or not?"

Beckett stared intently at her lap. "For two highly trained detectives, it took you a remarkably long time to notice."

There was silence, and then Esposito crowed in victory and beat the desk with his fist. "YES!" He turned to Ryan triumphantly. "I TOLD you Mom and Dad would get hitched by August! You and Lanie owe ME..." He counted on his fingers. "500 bucks EACH."

Beckett gaped at them. "You've been betting on us?"

"Mom and Dad?" Castle cried in horror at the same time.

"So, when's the wedding?" Esposito asked, still smiling.

"Guys...we just got engaged last month. There's not really a set date."

"LAST-" Ryan screeched, but Beckett gave him a death stare and he lowered his voice to a whisper, ignoring the odd looks from cops around the precinct. "Last month?! When we you planning on telling us?"

"Yeah," Castle pouted. "Are you ashamed of your new fiance?"

She opened her mouth indignantly to respond, but was cut off. "Detective Beckett," Gates said, pursing her lips. "We have another body."

KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKB RCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC

"Just like all the others," Lanie sighed, sitting back on her heels and eyeing the corpse in front of her. "V of chest stitches, sheet wrapped around her, found in a remote part of a graveyard. I thought you put people on all the cemeteries?"

"We put them on the abandoned ones and told security guards at the graveyards to keep an eye out," Beckett replied. "But we think he has a police informant. He must've told Duncan where we were watching."

The team stood around the body in New York City Marble Cemetery. "I didn't realize they were so many graveyards in the city," Ryan said.

"Not comforting in the face of a zombie outbreak," Esposito quipped.

"Actually, the undead don't have the power to break out of their graves, so a cemetery would actually be a pretty safe place," Castle corrected.

"You have gotta be kidding. Of course they can break out of their own graves, those coffins are probably half-rotted away by now," Espo argued.

"Zombies can't claw through six feet of packed soil."

"I read this book of survival stuff when me and Jenny went camping, and it said if you get buried alive that you stand on top of the coffin and use your shirt to make an air pocket, and then you can dig through the dirt and climb out," Ryan piped up.

"Guys!" Beckett snapped. "Focus."

Ryan made a face."So I guess their allowed to talk about zombies, but when I try it..."

"I don't think zombies are your thing, bro. Maybe if they all wore sweater vests and had neatly combed hair."

"Anyway," Lanie interrupted impatiently, giving them both a glare. "She has something under her fingernails. The other victims were scrubbed clean but this stuff got buried way in the nailbeds, so it looks like wherever she was killed was not the cleanest place. It was probably in the air, so somewhere without good ventilation and probably abandoned."

"Underground?" Castle suggested. "Maybe he dug a pit for his lair."

"Not THAT badly ventilated. Besides, this doesn't look like dirt to me. See," Lanie pulled a lock of the victim's straight red hair behind her ear. "She's got some in her ears too. It looks like charcoal or ash, but I won't know for sure until I run tests."

"So, same cause of death?" Beckett confirmed.

"Actually, no. These stitches look like they were made after she died. I'll check at the morgue."

"Did we I.D. the victim yet?"

"Nope, but I'll run dentals back at the lab," Lanie told her. "She looks like she's in her late twenties, though."

Beckett turned around. "You two, look for missing person's reports on redhead girls in their late twenties."

"You got it, boss."

"Where are we going?" Castle asked as they walked away.

"Back to the precinct to find out who are cop informant is."

KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKB RCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC

Beckett put the cap back on the Expo marker and looked at the board with the same intensity as she had the other day. "Okay, by profiling, it is probably a man."

"He doesn't to be a big fan of women," Ryan agreed.

Esposito raised an eyebrow. "I don't think he's a big fan of anybody, bro."

"Yeah, but he has this extra resentment towards woman. A woman is the one who let his sister's case get cold, a woman is the mother who abandoned him, and I think he even hates his sister a little bit for leaving him," Castle pointed out.

"Did he have friends growing up?" Beckett wondered aloud. "Someone he could contact to be an assistant?"

Castle snorted. "Highly doubtful. Even more doubtful that if he did, it would be a cop."

"In the mental hospital he was sent to, they had a system where different people would come visit the inmates once a week if no one else visited him. Each patient would be assigned one vistor who volunteered to be in the program," Ryan informed them slowly, thinking.

"Would it be in his record?" Beckett asked.

"Not his public record," Ryan said hurriedly, typing quickly into his computer. The team gathered around him and watched the monitor. "But St. Francis and Cross Specialist Center has it's own records of patients. Looks like his visiting buddy was...Silvia Wessmary."

Castle looked surprised. "A woman."

"Does it have any notes about their relationship?" Beckett asked Ryan.

"It says that after six weeks of the program, Duncan had the option to switch to a different visitor, but he opted to stay with Silvia," Ryan read. "According to Duncan's psychiatrist, both of them were very secretive about whatever they talked about during sessions."

"They didn't have a security camera in the visiting room?" Esposito asked. "You know, in case some psycho goes into a violent rage or something?"

"They do, but it doesn't record sound. Apparently they want to respect the patient's right to some privacy. But they watch every session live, and if someone's facial expression goes way too sour or it looks like their yelling, security guards will break it up. They monitor other visits, but to 'let a healthy relationship blossom', they don't listen in," Ryan explained.

Suddenly, Beckett's phone rang. She walked over to answer it. "Beckett."

"Hey, girl, I got an I.D. on your victim. Becka Terinthetteck, 29, a recruit officer in the 22nd precinct. According to the reports, she was about to make probationary police officer. Daughter of Eric and Stephanie Terinthetteck...they died in 2002, but she has an older sister who lives on Long Island, one Miriam Terinthetteck," Lanie told her.

Beckett covered the mouthpiece with her palm. "Espo!" He looked over. "Becka Terinthetteck."

He nodded and turned to the keyboard, before pausing and slowly turning around. "How the hell do you spell Terinthetteck?!"

"T-E-R-I-N-the-T-T-ECK. Got it?"

Esposito gave her a thumbs and resumed typing. "Geez, Terinthetteck. Long-ass name. She was probably one of those kids who hated substitutes because they could never say her name."

"Everybody hates subs, dude," Ryan chuckled.

"Yeah, but, imagine if you're last name was...was Kerfinklesnitz or something and then the substitute would be-"

"Did your teachers have trouble saying Esposito, Esposito?" Castle asked gently.

"What? No way," Esposito scoffed. "Come on, it's easy. You know, Espo. Sito. Nothing to it."

"Where is all this coming from, then?" Ryan pressed with a smile.

"You know what, you guys got it easy in life. Ryan, Castle. Even...even someone who sucked at phonetics! Could pronounce those names!" Esposito sputtered.

"Jea-lous," Castle whispered to Ryan, who nodded understandably.

Beckett rolled her eyes and returned to her conversation. "You were saying, Lanie?"

"I ran the gunk in her nailbeds and in her ear, and get this? It's soot," Lanie said through the phone.

"Soot? Were there traces of anything else in it?" Beckett inquired curiously.

"It was mixed with a grease lubricant that's used on wheel bearings, but it was mostly the soot. So it he either had a lot on him that was transfered to her, but it's more likely that she was just in a place with poor ventilation, a lot of soot, and a vehicle. Also, the chest stitches were made post-mortem, so that isn't what killed her. She did have major burns all over her back, which look like they were made with more than a high enough voltage of electricity to kill her. Maybe 600 to 800 volts of it. Not from a taser or stun gun, it was direct contact."

"Okay. Thanks, Lanie," Beckett said, hanging up and walking back over to the boys. "That was Lanie. She says that Miss Terinthetteck did not die from blood loss, but from major electricity burns. 600 to 800 volts. Also, there was soot and a wheel lubricant under her fingernails and tracked in the grooves of her ear."

"What generates that much electricity?"

"Easy," Castle answered smoothly. "Electric. Eels." He nodded. "Their electric shocks are 600 volts. It's the talk of the town that we're gonna start using them to power our subways."

Beckett looked at him. "You think our killer borrowed an eel from the local aquarium to kill her?"

"No, don't be ridiculous," Castle laughed, then grew deadly serious. "I believe he HARNESSED the electricity from the eel, gathered it into a stun gun or taser, and used THAT to electrocute Miss Terinthetteck."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Dr. Castle, but Lanie said that the electric burns were from direct contact. No stun gun, taser, OR electric eel involved in the process," Beckett informed him. Castle made a face and pulled out his phone.

"On a slightly more serious note," Esposito said with aloof. "Is it possible that the burn came from draping a frayed hairdryer cord over a sink?" He got strange looks. "What?! My sister pulled that on me once, it hurts like a bitch!"

"Did it kill you?" Ryan asked slowly, like he was speaking to a toddler.

"That's a stupid question."

"Your question was stupider. If it had generated that much electricity, you would be dead, and thus unable to ask that question in the first place."

"Stupider isn't even a word!"

"Wait!" Castle bellowed. They looked to him as he tapped something into his phone. "It is a word." Esposito gaped. "Sorry, bro."

"Well, I am going to contact next of kin," Beckett announced. "You coming, Castle?"

KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKB RCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC

"Ms. Terinthetteck, I am very sorry for your loss," Beckett soothed the distraught woman. "Do you know of anyone that might want to hurt your sister?"

"Just...just call me Miriam," the woman smiled weakly, wiping the last of this crying session's tears out of her bloodshot blue eyes. Miriam shook her head. "And no. I mean, we don't talk very often. Or, I guess, we DIDN'T talk that often. Becka was..." Miriam gave a little, sniffling laugh. "Becka was always the competitive one. Funny, with me being the older sister and all, but she was a real firecracker. Kind of a workaholic, but ever since we were kids she was very ambitious and driven. She knew what she wanted, and she didn't want some big sister getting in her way."

"Were you two ever close?" Castle inquired.

"When we were really little. Becka was a good person, you know, she wanted to make the world a better place. But she thought the end's justified the means, and she always had to win. Becka had a lot of trouble making friends, so I was there for her when she was lonely. I mean, she never said she was lonely to my face, but I think it was a matter of pride that she didn't admit it," Miriam explained. "We were just...so different. I was born here, but my family moved to my grandparent's farm in Maine before Becka was born. She hated it, but I loved it. I have my own dairy farm on Long Island now. She was a rookie cop in the big city. We just grew apart."

"I guess she wasn't really the friendliest person," Beckett inferred.

"No, not really. I guess it wouldn't surprise me if she had a few enemies; she was an agressive person. But she didn't pick fights; she was just kind of cold and didn't care about anyone's feelings as long as she 'did the right thing'. I don't think anybody she knew would want to hurt her," Miriam answered honestly. She visibly gulped and touched a strand of her long, wavy auburn hair. "The Mortician thing...he targets young law enforcers with straight red hair. Just like her. " Miriam's voice cracked. "I told her to be CAREFUl, she practically had a target on her back and I said, 'Becka, you have to be careful, this guy could easily come after you,' and she just told me not to worry. And now, she's dead. My little sister is dead."

Beckett leaned forward and placed a hand on Miriam's leg. Miriam looked at her. "We will not stop. Until we catch this guy." She looked into her eyes. "You have my word on that. We will get justice for your sister, Miriam."

Miriam nodded, and stood up to leave. As she put her hand on the doorknob, she turned around and looked at Beckett "Detective Beckett?" She smiled shyly and looked at her sandaled feet. "You should know...Becka really admired you. She wanted to be just like you when she became a detective." Miriam looked up at her. "I think she picked a good person to admire."

Beckett smiled at her as she left. She and Castle sat silently beside each other for a couple of minutes. Finally green eyes met blue eyes and he reached for her hand, which she gave it to him. Still staring into each other's eyes, they laced their fingers together and just sat there for one long, loving moment. Finally, Beckett stood and smiled kindly at him.

"Let's get back to work, Castle."


	4. Chapter 4

Castle looked at the large brick building of St. Francis and Cross Specialist Center. It looked nicer than regular hospitals, with an open yard of lush green grass surrounding it on all sides except for the limestone driveway lined with azaleas. No one was outside, and it could've passed for a Brownstone manor were it not for the enormous sign declaring it's name, the polished iron bars guarding the thick glass windows.

He whistled. "This is nicer than your apartment."

"If this is what you prefer, I'll remember that next time you invite yourself over," Beckett responded without a beat, unable to hide the smile in her voice. "Maybe we could have date night here."

"You know, if it weren't for the security cameras posted in every room with a double bed, I might actually think about that."

She laughed and elbowed him. "Shut up. And behave, all right?"

"You needn't remind me, detective," he grinned.

"No, no, no, no, Castle! You said you'd stop!"

"I was crossing my fingers."

"Why?!"

"Because it's funny watching you put up with my terrible accent!"

"Stop."

"You're no fun, old chap!"

"Call me old chap again and I will-"

"Can I help you?" a voice asked softly, giggling.

Castle noticed a face behind the frosted glass. Beckett pulled out her badge and held it close to the door. "Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. This is Richard Castle. Could we speak with who ever's in charge here, please?"

There was a click, and the door unlocked. He opened it for her, a gesture which she thanked him with a smile for, and they strolled inside. The hall was almost totally empty except for a few chairs and houseplants. And all the people. Doctors and therapists and visitors hurried across the room into the next hallway every few seconds. Yet somehow, it was still quiet and felt empty.

An incredibly tall lady stood there in hospital scrubs, her greying hair down to her waist. She spun around, laughing, until she got dizzy and lay down on the linoleum floor. She watched the pair with enormous, frighteningly curious but empty hazel eyes. "Hi. I'm Emmy. That's my nickname, actually. My real name is Emily Durham. But when I played with the little kids, they couldn't say Emily. So they just said Emmy. And so now I'm Emmy."

Castle saw Beckett shoot up and walk to snag a doctor so they could get to business, but he was fascinated. "I see. How old are you?"

"I turned 48 last month," Emmy informed him proudly.

"Wow, that's a big number. Happy birthday."

She said nothing, but continued to look at him with her big, wondering eyes.

"So, uh, have you always gone by Emmy?" Castle asked, trying to get the conversation going again.

"Yeah, just Emmy. Emmy, Emmy, Emmy. I've been here...a real long time. I remember my friends when I was a little girl, they were the ones calling me Emmy," she said in a slightly upbeat monotone.

"Emmy's a really cool nickname to have," Castle told her. "I wish I had a nickname."

"I don't like it," she said after a moment, pouting. "They said it's a stupid nickname for a big girl."

"Who's they?" There was no response. After a moment, Beckett turned to Castle and tossed her head, gesturing for him to follow her.

Castle sat next to her in the conference room, across from Dr. Gardner at the long, shiny oak table. One by one, he took out folder after folder. Castle started jiggling his leg up and down impatiently.

"So, Dr. Eilers, I understand you keep the security tapes of each session between a visitor and patient in the program you have set up," Beckett started.

"Yes, I do," Dr. Eilers nodded. "But these here are notes I made on Mr. Duncan as his psychiatrist. I thought they might be helpful."

"Of course," Castle agreed politely. "But, um, we really do need to see those tapes."

"May I ask the urgency?"

"We are concerned that the woman visiting him has been assisting him in some crimes. There was no photo on her report or security information," Beckett offered.

"Ah, yes, Sylvia Wessmary. You know, that girl was very secretive. Always had these oversize sunglasses on, even when it wasn't sunny. She had a scarf covering up her head top, and a burka, of sorts. Sylvia Wessmary doesn't sound like a very middle-eastern name to me, but I didn't question her about it. They had really bonded, I didn't want to accidentally sabotage their relationship," Dr. Eilers said, pushing his small dark glasses up his nose.

"What did Mr. Duncan do for fun? You know, how he kept occupied?" Castle asked.

"Oh, we have social activities between the patients, but Mr. Duncan was a reserved person. He preferred to stay in his room. In the beginning, he had brought some word puzzle game- I forget what it was. But he ran out, so he started making new ones to amuse himself. He liked puzzles, a lot."

"Could...could we see his old room?" Beckett inquired.

"I'm sorry, no. We're tight on rooms, and so his was passed on to another patient immediately after he left," Dr. Gardner explained regretfully. He snapped his fingers. "Ah, but those security tapes! Right, come with me to the security booth, I'll have Ian burn some extra copies for you folks to take back with you."

They walked down the security booth, a brightly little room with clear images flashing across the multitude of monitors. A young man with square ebony glasses framing bright gray eyes sat in a padded desk chair, studying the screens carefully. He looked up as the metal door swung open, flashing a smile.

"Hey, how can I help you?" he chirped.

"Ian, this is Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle. Would you mind burning Mr. Duncan and Ms. Wessmary's sessions onto a CD for them?" Dr. Eilers requested.

Ian poised his fingers back at the keyboard. "No problem. Date?"

"He's new here," Dr. Eilers mouthed to them. He turned to Ian. "You don't need the date here, son. Just check Mr. Duncan's file and it'll be there."

"Right, right, sorry," Ian laughed, doing as instructed. "My old job wasn't nearly this organized. We had to search the dates and root through everything until we found what we needed." He paused and frowned. "Uh, it isn't here."

Dr. Eilers scowled and pushed Ian aside. "What do you mean it isn't there?!"

"I mean, all the files of his surveillance footage are gone. They must've been deleted," Ian confirmed worriedly. He looked at the dynamic duo. "I'm sorry, about this guys. This room has his file's main database; if it's deleted from here, it's gone."

"He's right," Dr. Eilers sighed, running a hand through his receding hairline. "I don't know how this happened. We'll launch an investigation immediately. Until then, we'll let you know if we find anything."

KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKB RCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC

"Pretty sure that this Sylvia chick is our rat," Esposito told them.

"That's the thing," Ryan said. "I looked in NYPD records, we have no Sylvia Wessmary here. It's either a false identity or not a cop."

"Well, sure, she was smart enough to create a false identity," Castle agreed. "And Duncan's a tech major; he probably hacked the records and deleted all the video footage."

"So, we have nothing on her," Beckett sighed. "Great."

"We'll find out who she really is," Castle promised her.

"She is the key in solving this case. If we find her, we find Duncan. Finding her identity has to be our top priority," Beckett reminded them.

"We know, Beckett. So chill," Esposito snapped.

Beckett ran a hand through her hair, staring at the ground. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm a little on edge."

"We need to figure out the murder weapon, too," Ryan piped up. "That could tell us where he is."

"600 volts of electricity, bad ventilation, soot and wheel bearing oil," Castle recited. "Maybe it was the inside of a car, and he shocked her with the car's wires or something."

"It sounds more like the outside of a car," Beckett pointed out. "Near the exhaust pipe, with the soot and wheel oil."

"Yeah, but the ventilation-"

"A parking garage!" Ryan butted in.

"But then wouldn't there be gasoline, too?" Castle corrected. "Besides, it had to be abandoned. New York parking garages are not abandoned in the slightest."

"Why WASN'T there gasoline?" Esposito wondered.

"Maybe whatever the vehicle ran on was electricity," Ryan suggested.

"And that's where he got the voltage to kill her!" Castle cried.

"I don't think that's how it works," Ryan corrected. "What would he have done, poked her with a wire? Those burn marks were all along her back. My guess is she was laying on something that electrocuted her."

Beckett's phone rang. "Beckett."

"Um, Detective Beckett? This is Ian Dummeck from St. Francis's."

"Hi, Ian, how can I help you?" she asked.

"I...I found something in our records. Could I meet with you?" he requested, sounding worried.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Where?" Beckett agreed.

"You can just meet me at the hospital," he suggested.

"Okay. I'll be there." She hung up.

"Who was that?" Castle asked.

"Ian Dummeck from St. Francis and Cross. He wanted to meet with me about something...he sounded pretty on edge. I don't think he wants his boss to know about it," Beckett informed them. "He asked to meet me there."

"Okay, maybe he'll have some new information on it," Ryan said hopefully.

"Yeah, that's the plan. " She pulled on her fleece and headed towards the elevator.

"You know, Dr. Eilers said that Duncan liked to play word games...maybe that can help us find him," Castle offered.

"Word games? How will that help us?" Espo scoffed.

Castle thought for a moment before a look of shock crossed his face. "Becka Terinthetteck."

"What about her?" Ryan asked absently.

Castle ran to the whiteboard and wrote the name down. "Becka Terinthetteck. That name stuck me as familiar." Underneath her name, he slowly wrote a new name, crossing letters out from Becka's name as he went. He turned around with a mask of awe on his face. "Katherine Beckett."

"Anagrams!" Ryan cried. "I used to those all the time!"

"Maybe that's how Sylvia Wessmary chose her name. It's an anagram for her real name!" Esposito concluded.

"Sylvia Wessmary..." Castle thought aloud, closing his eyes. "Let's start with common last names. That's our best shot."

Ryan scribbled down the name on a legal pad. "Sylvia Wessmary..." he thought for a moment, and shrugged. "You can make Williams without the other L."

"Williams...where is that name familiar?" Espo groaned.

Castle's eyes grew wide. He looked at them. "Avery Williams."

KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKB RCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC

"Hey, Avery," Castle chirped, walking up to her in the breakroom."What's up?"

She looked at him brightly. "Hi, Rick! Nothing much. How's the case going?"

"Oh, I was just thinking, have you ever heard of anagrams?" Rick pretended to ponder.

Her smile dimmed slightly. "Hmm...you know, I don't think I have." She laughed. "Go on, enlighten me!"

"It's wear you switch the letters around in a word to make a new word. And our suspect's name is an anagram for Avery Williams, isn't that funny?" Castle smiled tightly.

"Kind of creepy!" Avery giggled, light brown eyes losing their sparkle.

"Very creepy, Ms. Wessmary," Castle teased.

Avery's smile dropped. "Excuse me?"

"That's your little pseudonym, isn't it, Sylvia?" Esposito confirmed, walking up behind her.

She spun around frantically. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Give it up," Ryan snapped, striding up to her. "We know you're Duncan's spy."

She closed her mouth for a few seconds. "How did you find out?"

"Sylvia Wessmary, Avery Williams," Castle chuckled. "Your anagrams aren't as clever as you think they are, Avery."

"Who hired you?" Esposito demanded.

"Oh, you know who hired me," she smirked. "Two weeks ago, I got a call. It doesn't pay bad, either."

"Where is Mike Duncan?" Castle asked fiercely.

"That I can't tell you."

Ryan strode forward. "Turn around." He handcuffed her. "Avery Williams, you are under arrest for the stalking of Katherine Beckett and Richard Castle, upholding evidence, and assisting a criminal. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you free of charge. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?" he recited.

"You bet," Avery grumbled.

They walked her to the interrogation room. In the observation room, Castle pulled out his phone to call Beckett. "You know, I always knew there was something off about her."

"Yeah, she was always too perky," Espo agreed.

"Hi, you've reached the voicemail of Detective Kate Beckett. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Castle frowned. "She didn't answer. It went straight to voicemail."

"Why is her phone off?" Ryan asked.

"I don't know, bro. Where did she say she was going?"

"To meet Ian Dummeck at-" Castle paused and gasped. "Ian Dummeck..." He looked at the detectives in horror. "Mike Duncan."


	5. Chapter 5 (Part 1)

**A/N: I haven't really been getting any reviews, so I don't know if you guys want me to continue the story...but here is chapter 4. I know I have short chapters, but this one will be longer! It switches from Kate's perspective to Castle's perpective pretty rapidly, so each segment will be shorter than usual. Enjoy! Make sure to review! :)**

Kate Beckett walked into the security booth. Ian stood there, smiling at her. "Ian, was there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

In one fluid motion, he whipped a gun out from behind his back and aimed it directly at her heart. "Hands up, Detective."

Her eyes widened and she slowly raised her arms. "What are you doing, Ian?"

Ian walked towards her and withdrew her weapons from her waist and ankle holsters, throwing them on the ground. "Kick them away."

Beckett looked at him warily, kicking her guns to the other side of the room. "What do you want?"

Ian laughed. "I'm surprised you still haven't figured it out. Your team just did now."

"You're Mike Duncan," Beckett said stoically.

"The one and only," he smiled at her. "I mean, who else would be pointing a gun at you?" He cocked his head. "Don't you get it, Kate? Mike Duncan equals Ian Dummeck. Sylvia Wessmary equals Avery Williams."

She looked at him in shock. "Why are you doing this, Duncan?"

"Why do you think I landed in this joint, huh?" Duncan ripped off his glasses. She saw the identical resemblance to the photo she had seen earlier. "I'm crazy. That's what they said, anyway. My sister never got justice; so I got her justice my own way."

"Yes, but why involve me?" Beckett demanded. "Or Castle?"

"I knew you would get this case," Duncan shrugged. "And you'll be perfect to finish off my killing spree; the beautiful detective on my case. Those girls won't get justice either."

"This won't be fun for you," Beckett argued. "Shooting me? Just let me go and we can figure something else. We'll get justice for Garnett, together. I promise you."

Duncan chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't trust cops. Your promise means nothing."

"You trusted Avery," Beckett pointed out.

"She wasn't a real cop. She was twisted, just like me." Duncan stepped closer. "We were twisted together. But you, you aren't twisted. You're just a lying, waste of space. Just like all the other cops."

"If my team did figure it out, they'll be here any minute now," Beckett warned. "Give it up, Duncan."

"No, no, no," he said in a soothing voice, running a hand through her hair. "Look at what an excellant bargaining chip I have. You, you are the admired cop. It will break them to see you killed. And that's what I really want; not justice for my sister. I want the cops to suffer like I did."

She had to stall him. "I've been shot before; it didn't break them."

"That's because you didn't DIE!" Duncan snarled. "No, no, a bullet isn't special. A bullet won't hurt you. A bullet won't wound the others."

"Why are you-"

A stun gun positioned at her chest was the last thing she saw before the world spun and turned white.

KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKB RCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC

Castle sprinted through the doors of St. Francis. "The security booth!"

They ran inside. Castle's heart pounded in his chest. Why did he let her go anywhere alone? Wasn't that security detail supposed to have eyes on her? He banged open the door, and while he didn't find her dead body on the ground, what they found wasn't what he hoped to find.

"It's empty," Ryan said breathlessly. "They're gone."

"Beckett's service weapon," Esposito pointed out, looking at two guns skittered across the floor. "And a taser."

His breath caught in his throat."He's holding her hostage," Castle cried, voice cracking.

"We don't know that," Ryan argued.

"The taser..."Esposito muttered. "He wanted her alive."

"Why?" Castle exclaimed. "What is he going to do? He got her all the way out her by herself, but he didn't kill her."

"They can't be far now," Espo said.

"Let me call Gates," Ryan said, vanishing around the corner.

"Oh, my god," Castle whispered, cradling his head in his hands. "He took her so he could perform the same autopsy ritual."

KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKB RCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC

Beckett slowly became aware of her surroundings. She heard the gentle hum of an engine and the sounds of traffic, and felt carpet underneath her. Wherever she was it was stuffy and very cramped, as well as pitch black. Slowly she pieced together some memories, and realized she was in the trunk of a car. It bumped up and down over the pothole-riddled street. Her heart thumped in her chest. Beckett knew her best chance of survival would be to get out of this trunk. She felt around for a trunk release, ripping up the carpet, but there was none. With her black pump she kicked out the taillight. At least they might get pulled over, and she could yell for help.

Beckett felt around. Her weapon holsters had been removed as well as the contents of all of her pockets. All her jewelry and her watch was still in place, as well as her clothing. The trunk was empty, and she tried to get leverage from the floor to push up the trunk. There were bullet holes which she assumed were made as breathing holes for her. At least he wasn't going to let her suffocate. She focused on kick out the other taillights, finally kicking it out completely so there was a hole. Beckett gasped in the fresh air and pressed her face to it. They were on a busy street, most likely still in New York. Beckett unzipped her black fleece and shoved part of it out of the trunk, using a makeshift flag. She stuck her foot out the other one. If this was any other city, people might notice and call the police. But in busy New York City, no one would bat an eye.

Beckett wasn't able to see which streets they were on, but payed close attention when they parked in an empty ally. The engine rumbled to a halt, and a few minutes later, sunlight blinded her eyes. She squinted while her eyes adjusted, finally making out the image of Mike Duncan pointing a gun at her. Still laying flat on the floor of the trunk, Beckett looked around anxiously. The street connected to the ally was occupied solely by a handful of homeless people, hibernating on the cold sidewalk.

"Get out," Duncan commanded, thrusting the gun towards her.

She gave him a murderous glare, but complied, shakily standing on the filthy asphalt. He grabbed her around the waist, pressed the gun to her stomach, and walked forward, forcing her to walk with him. "What do you want, Duncan?"

"What do I want?" he chuckled darkly, softly into her ear. "Avery and I have been planning this for quite some time. Did you know that she's my cousin? She is. We've been looking for the right cop to torture, and you will be perfect." Her skin prickled as his whispered tone breathed over it. "They will all suffer like Garnett did. It's all of your fault's, including you. Not to mention how much fun it will be, to break Richard Castle."

"Is it really wise, to be telling me everything?" Beckett snapped, trying to change the subject. They were headed towards the metal doors of some cellar.

He ignored her. "Oh, Avery has told me about how close he is to you. He'll neglect that daughter of his, and I have been craving her." She felt Duncan smile. "Oh, that long red hair..."

Beckett was silent, refusing to admit to his teasing. Duncan removed the cold muzzle of the gun from her stomach, and pressed something to her back.

"I'm sorry to have to do this again, Detective."

She gasped and arched her back as a familiar pain rippled through her body. But Beckett stayed awake. She was conscious and alert, completely paralyzed. Her eyes were open, as she was unable to move them to close. He did it for her, fingers sliding them shut. A wave of panic swept through her and she felt him scoop her up, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her shoulder blades. She felt and heard him open what she assumed were the cellar doors, walk down a long set of steps. She realized that they were underground as she heard the rushing of the city above. They walked for a while before he abruptly halted. Duncan gently lay Beckett's body onto a cold metal table. She lay on her back, straining to move, as he moved her arms to beside her and strapped tough, flexible nylon restraints onto her wrists and elbows, pinning them firmly to the table. He worked his way up up and down Beckett's body, securing her ankles, knees, waist, and chest to the table with identical restraints. She knew without trying to test them that they wouldn't budge. She focused on moving, and gathered her lest hand into a fist, immediately exhausting her.

Beckett heard Duncan walk around the table, pick up something, and then heard a strange noise and a grunt. Beckett didn't realize what he was doing until she felt the strip of duct tape being plastered over her lips. She heard him assembling something at the foot of the table, heard a beep.

"And we're rolling," she heard him say. Her breath caught in her throat. He was filming her, probably streaming it on an untraceable network directly to the precinct. "Now, Sleeping Beauty here still hasn't roused, so we have some time to chat."

KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKB RCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC KBRCKBRCKBRCKBRCKBRC

"Let her go, Duncan," Castle snarled. He and a knot of other detectives from the precinct including her own team gathered around the laptop Ryan had been video-called from. Across the table, Avery was smirking. They had gathered in the interrogation room to see Avery when Ryan's laptop has sung out. Now he regretted it, hating that Avery got to see him like this. It must be so satisfying for her.

"No, I don't think so, Rick," Duncan chirped. The camera had been angled so that the only thing they could see was the autopsy table and Beckett's body strapped to it.

"Why are you doing this?!" Esposito demanded angrily.

"Isn't it obvious?" Duncan cried in disbelief. "You, you cops made my family and I suffer. You never caught that damn killer. All this time, me and Avery have been waiting. Waiting for the perfect cop, hurting her like you hurt us. So you feel the pain that we did." Duncan leaned over and kissed Beckett's cheek, stroking her hair. Every cell in Castle's body tensed with fury. He was sure his face was a mask of pure, unadulterated hatred. "And she really is perfect."

"What are you waiting for, Mike?" Avery asked sharply.

Duncan shot up. "Avery?"

"Yeah, we have her in custody," Ryan snarled.

"Avery!" Mike yelled. "This wasn't the plan! You were supposed to escape and meet me before-"

"Yeah, well, I couldn't resist seeing the look of Mr. Castle's face when you tortured his fiance," Avery cackled.

Castle got up with the laptop to leave the room, but Duncan interrupted. "Oh, no, Mr. Castle. Avery's right. This will be fun for all of us. Sit back down, or I kill her." Duncan held a gun to the side of Kate's head. "Avery gets to sit there and watch."

Castle reluctantly sat back down. He turned to face Ryan. "Did you trace it?" he whispered out of the side of his mouth.

Ryan nodded. "I tried everything. He's a technology major, he must've messed with the signals."

"We have to find her," Espo hissed.

Castle turned back to the screen. "So, Duncan, where are you?"

"I'm actually quite surprised that none of you have figured it out yet. Maybe I'll tell in a little while. After she's dead."

Castle looked desperately for any clues, but the video feed focused only on the autopsy table. "We will find you. You might as well tell us now."

Duncan laughed. "What, and miss a perfectly good opportunity to perform my magic on this gorgeous detective? I'll pass."

KATE:

She finally gathered the control of her body enough to open her eyes. With a couple blinks, she saw a camera pointed at her, a monitor attached to it showing a large group of detectives hovering around Castle in the interrogation room. Duncan looks over to her in delight.

"Ah, Detective Beckett! You're awake. How nice."

It suddenly occurs to her that she should've played unconscious for longer, to stall. She lets her eyes rolled back into her head and collapses again of the table, letting her breath even. She feels him leaning over her, but doesn't flinch. The longer she stalls, the more time the boys have to locate her. His warm breath skates over her face, but she doesn't move.

I** know this isn't a cliffhanger, or really complete, but I really wanted to upload something even if it's not finished. Think of this as part one, I guess. Reviews make me happy :)**


	6. Charlotte's Prompt

Beckett tried to ignore the rippling knot of nausea that formed in her stomach when as Duncan leaned over her, stroking her wavy hair, touching her motionless lips. He pulls away, and in a few moments she hears gasps and murmurs from the video feed before a cold metal blade lightly runs over her throat.

"Wake up, sweetheart," she hears him whisper in a gentle, soothing voice. She feels a large, sweaty finger paw at her eyelid and the next thing she knows, one of eyes is being pulled wide open and she stares into his sea-grey eyes.

She gasps, flinches, shakes her head, before she scolds herself for giving herself away. For the first time, Beckett looks around.

A/N: I'm sorry, but I do have to end my writing here. I'm having severe writer's block, as I am with my other story. I don't know, it's just not flowing and I don't want to publish something that I didn't do my best on. However, if people really want to continue the story, use the prompt above and write the chapter yourself. PM it to me, and if multiple people do I'll pick the winner to publish here in the author's name. I may continue this later, but for the moment I just need to get the creative juices flowing again.


End file.
